A gay adult stories: My Dirty Little Secret (1 1/2) by instranger ,
A continuation of my last chapter.
Thanks for all the positive feedback from the last chapter, guys! As the title indicates, this is not a direct sequel to the last chapter, but more of a bridge between chapters 1 and 2. This is because it’s an individual sexual encounter that has no relationship to David or whatever’s going to have Chapter 2 onwards, but it did happen between the time. Also there’s a lot more story here because initially I’d wanted to do one super-long Chapter 2, but decided to split it up. Don’t worry, Chapter 2 will hopefully be up within the next two days, and it will definitely be more fulfilling than this one 
:DP.S. Text messages/IMs are italicised.
My Dirty Little Secret (1 and a half)
It was Friday, a day after what had happened between David and me. The shock hadn’t worn off, and I felt like shit. I hadn’t heard from David at all in the meantime, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. I still could remember the good feeling, how his warm skin felt so good, so nice, so right. And his hand around my cock… I couldn’t have asked for more, but I couldn’t have asked for something worse either.
It was 9AM in the morning and I was still in my bed, and Britney’s face kept flashing before my eyes. Each time, it seemed more distant, more faded. So beautiful, so pretty and so proud of her boyfriend… who had just cheated on her yesterday. With me.
I wondered if David had cheated on her before, with someone else. Some sick part of my mind hoped it was just me. Would that be better or worse?
Usually, when I’m angry or frustrated, working out helps keep those feelings at bay. This time, it did work… for a short time. In fact, I felt even shittier for trying to forget about the whole thing. If Britney found out, she wouldn’t. How could I do that to her, or anyone? Life seemed to be drifting at a slow pace… until I got a message from Dave on my Blackberry.
David: Bonjour! What’s up?
Me: Oh, nm. How are you?
David: I’m feeling amazing today, and you know the reason why
Me: Hahahaha XD
David: Any chance we can meet up today? Just the two of us, you know
Me: Sorry, I can’t
David: Aww Why not? It can’t be more important than me 
Me: Sorry, Dave, I’m not doing anything today. But I can’t…
David: Why?
Me (after a while): Because it’s wrong
I’m not sure if he saw that, but he didn’t reply. I spent the rest of the day brooding and not replying any of my other friends’ messages. They were obviously concerned because I usually did reply, but I did not bother. I finished whatever homework I had and went to bed early, to the surprise of my parents.
Next day, I did not get a message from him until three in the afternoon.
David: Wait, what’s wrong? Are you feeling okay, dude?
Me: Not entirely, no.
David: I’m here if you wanna talk.
Me: Yeah, I want to talk to you.
David: What about?
Me: The thing we did in school on Thursday. That’s what’s wrong!
David: Why?
Me: You know why…
He didn’t reply for a few minutes. I just assumed he was trying to think of an answer.
David: Don’t be a hypocrite, Ali. You were the one with me. We’re both guilty.
Me: You don’t seem guilty, though. I’ve been feeling like shit for the past two days because of what I realised after…
David: You’re only making yourself feel that. As long as Brit doesn’t know, everyone’s happy.
Me: Omg Dave you’re so fucking selfish.
David: Don’t call me selfish, you were just as much a part of it as I was.
Me: I know, and now I want to kill myself because of it.
David: Are you serious?
Me: I’m not sure.
David: Please don’t.
Me: I won’t.
David: There’s no problem with doing it, though. I like you, Ali. I’ve had a crush on you since the end of summer, and you can’t imagine how happy I felt on Thursday.
Me: Sorry, you can’t have both of us.
David: Are you thinking of telling her?
Me: No, she loves you. I don’t want to ruin that for her.
David: What if I break up with her… it will be hard, but I want to be with you too.
Me: If you break up with her for that one reason, it shows how much of a dick you are.
David: You’re a fucking dick as well. What’s up with you? You’re not like this.
Me: I was the guy who slept with someone who has a girlfriend, I feel lower than low. I feel like a cunt, horrible.
David: Then is it over?
Me: There was nothing between us to begin with. Please don’t do that to her again.
David: Okay.
Me: And let’s not talk from now on… until you sort out your priorities.
David: Fuck off.
I still felt like shit, but now I felt less like shit and more like a human. Something about that row had released part of my sadness. For a long time, the only form of communication between me and Dave was awkward glances. In that period, two other guys came into my life. Actually, that is debatable, because one of them was straight.
This straight guy was one of my closest friends, Alan Sinclair. To be honest, I’d never felt any sort of attraction towards him (unless you count the teensiest little crush I had on him when I first met him). He was from many parts of the world, including Portugal, Brazil, Australia and Germany. But he was white. While David had a positively dark orange complexion, Alan’s was the usual you found on Caucasian people – not too pale and not too dark.
For the past year, he sported ridiculously long hair for our schools standards and I don’t think that helped his attractiveness a lot. I’m not saying he is not attractive — I’ve just never thought of him as my kind of guy. He had dark brown hair and, like most teenagers, he pretended to be cool while he had self-esteem problem inside. And the new body which I had gained over summer had not helped that problem at all.
But he was my closest friend, and I had to help him.
At the first day of school when we’d all been slowly sifting into our new common room after a great summer, Alan was one of the people I’d met first. I could see the shock and surprise in his eyes and his next comment had made me feel really satisfied: “I thought gay guys were supposed to be skinny and girly.”
I made a rather pretentious show of pulling myself up to my tallest height (and I was still shorter than him by a few inches), and replied, “Like you?”
Sometimes, I’m really mean. Usually, I can be mean to my close friends because it’s okay to fight with them. Alan and I had had our arguments, but I’d often felt he looked at me with a superior glint in his eyes just because I was gay. That is why I had felt satisfied then. From then on, I never saw that look in his eyes again. Instead, I could see a look of shock and envy. But within that I saw him beating himself down.
It was October now, and even a month and a half of school couldn’t change the main topic of our text convos: Alan’s love life. His inferiority complex often made him say the phrase “out of my league”. I had told him I did not understand that concept a hundred times (even though I did) and that he should not think in that way, but he did anyway.
However, for the past few days, Alan had been making jokes about going gay, because apparently life would be simpler then. My answer to this would be “No, and you would make a horrible gay person. Firstly, because you find gay porn revolting.”